


Hollow

by Lizzie_Libertine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5045938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzie_Libertine/pseuds/Lizzie_Libertine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-write of that tree scene in Season 5, Episode 15.</p>
<p>Instead of Carl and Enid hiding in the tree, it's Daryl and Rick<br/>(One shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollow

Daryl crouched low, holding his breath with narrowed eyes. It was a quiet day and there was a chill in the air. He didn't care though, at least now he knew he had a nice, warm bed waiting for him back at Alexandria when he had finished. Raising his eyes, he peered out through the canopy of tall trees above him, it was late in the afternoon, but he still had a few hours of daylight left. He'd love to be able to catch something. He'd take them back with him and give them to Carol, that woman was a magician in the kitchen. His stomach grumbled loudly as his mouth watered.

He rolled his eyes and frowned, great, his gurgling gut was probably loud enough to scare away any cony in the area anyway. Placing his cross bow down on the composting leaves in front of him, Daryl stretched his shoulders back and ran his callused hand over his face. He sighed, long and slow. It wasn't even the right season for hunting rabbit but he couldn't stay in that place all day every day. It wasn't that he didn't like it. It wasn't that the people weren't pleasant enough but something about being so comfortable, so seemingly safe, unnerved him. Sometimes, sinking his dagger into the rotting scull of a corpse was the only outlet he had, the only thing that reminded him that he was still really alive.

He wasn't a particularly angry man any more. Years of hating his father, hating himself had warn him down. Hate was useless. Hate didn't solve anything, it didn't lead anywhere, except perhaps to an early grave. Daryl chewed on the inside of his bottom lip, pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind. He supposed he should be glad that he was alone in the woods but It was do damn quiet, not even the breeze made a sound. He closed his clear blue eyes momentarily but they snapped open when he heard the snap of a twig behind him. Daryl stiffened but he didn't reach for his weapon.

The footsteps were gaining on him, they were quite light, practised. It was a walk that held power, held authority. They were certainly human. He ran his tongue over his lips and swallowed, he knew that walk. He took in a deep breath, the dank scent of rotting leaves filling his nostrils.

"Rick." He said simply.

The sound of footfall ceased.

"I know you're following me." Daryl continued. "And you're going the wrong way."

"You knew?" Rick drawled although Daryl heard little actual surprise in his voice. 

Heaving himself to his feet, Daryl collected up his bow and slung it across his back deftly.

"You were being very loud."

He heard the shuffle of heavy boots over crispy leaves again, but now they were slow, a little unsure.

"Why are you out here by yourself? Where's Aaron?" Rick's voice carried over the wind. 

Although Daryl could hear him clearly, he still hadn't turned his back. 

"I'm fine. Just go back." The bowman demanded in a gravelly voice, side stepping both questions.

He was a solitary man at the best of times. He'd not been out on a run by himself for a long time. He just wanted the peace and quiet. He sighed again. Aaron was nice but he grated on him sometimes. He seemed to trail Daryl round like a lost puppy and it made him nervous. He didn't like the way he looked at him. He'd look at him, in the eyes for so long sometimes, that Daryl would have to look away, genuinely scared that Aaron could see what was going through his mind. Of course, Daryl knew he was just being paranoid, mind readers didn't exist but he did wonder maybe people like that could see _it_ in other people.

"We've already lost another two. I'd rather not lose you too, Daryl." Rick responded, his voice a little breathy.

Daryl tutted and turned on his heel. Sidling out from behind a tree, he clapped eyes on a clean shaven Rick. His breath hitched a little in his chest. He's not seen the bottom half of the ex-sheriff's face in so long, he'd forgotten that he wasn't actually that much older than himself. Although wrinkles had appeared round Rick's eyes, his jaw was still square and tight. Most of the grey that streaked his curls had been trimmed away. He was almost the same Law-man he'd met on the road all those years ago. Daryl blinked rapidly. 

"People are always gonna die." He said in a tight voice. " _You_ know that."

Rick dropped his gaze and pursed his lips a little, making Daryl's heart squeeze painfully in his chest. 

"C'mon, let's go back." Rick sighed, turning away from the other man, only stopping when he heard him speak again.

"Why?"

Blinking slowly, Rick shifted from foot to foot. Really, he didn't have a good reason, other than not wanting Daryl out on his own where he could get injured or worse. He rubbed the back of his neck, considering his response. Piss Daryl off or tell him what to do without a good reason, and he would bolt, as he usually did. 

"What are you doing out here anyway? There's nothing to hunt this late into the season." Rick reasoned with a flick of his wrist.

Daryl shrugged and looked around them. He knew Rick was right but he wasn't ready to go back Alexandria, not just yet.

"I'm just... just..." 

Before he even knew what he was doing, Daryl spun round and sprinted off through the trees. His feet hitting the carpet of leaves, the snapping of twigs echoing around him. He heard the same timbre of heavy steps behind him. Rick wasn't that far behind him but he continued to run, relishing the pull in his leg muscles and the burning in his lungs. Even as he began to pant and moisture plastered his long fringe to his brow. Daryl didn't know how long they ran for but his heart pounded hard and fast as he stopped near a clearing of dead trees. 

He flung his arm out to the side, Rick's chest pressing hard against it as he too stopped. Daryl narrowed his eyes. Ambling aimlessly in front of them was a walker. It didn't seem to have noticed them. Daryl dropped his arm and pressed his finger to his lips as he pulled his bow from his back and held it in front of him. He could hear Rick panting next to him, but he remained still. Squeezing the trigger, they both watched as the arrow caught the rotter in the middle of the forehead. It grumbled and sunk to the floor without another sound.

Rick followed Daryl as he retrieved his arrowed quickly and placed it back in his bow ready for later. Stepping over a fallen log, Daryl placed his crossbow down and slunk down, stretching his aching legs out before him. His heart beat was gradually slowing and the sweat on his skin was drying in the light breeze. Rick frowned but did the same, resting his back against the dead tree. He looked round, deep-blue eyes wide open when Daryl cleared his throat and shifted a little. 

"I like being out here. I like feeling like this." Daryl admitted, not looking at the other man. "I ain't looking to forget. Being out here, running, hunting, it makes me feel better."

He could still feel Ricks gaze on him as he picked at the hangnail on his grubby thumb.

"I know. I guess I just kinda forget sometimes."

Daryl bobbed his head lightly but didn't respond, choosing instead to stare out at the decrepit, naked trees before them. Rick sighed, still not taking his eyes off the younger man.

"You know, Aaron's nice. He's a good guy." Rick said slowly.

Heart jumping into his throat, Daryl snapped his head round and looked at Rick through narrowed eyes. What did he mean by that? What was Rick getting at? Was he implying that Daryl liked him because he was gay? Rick's eyes remained trained on him and his face was neutral. He breathed evenly and blinked normally. Daryl sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, he is." He replied truthfully.

"Does he know you come out here?" 

"Nah," Daryl said shortly, pulling out his dagger. "He wouldn't understand."

Digging the blade into the bark of the dead log next to him, he watched as the shavings peeled away and sprinkled to the floor.

"You know... if you asked me, I would have come with you." He heard Rick say over his shoulder.

Daryl didn't answer immediately, continuing with his task on hand, revealing more of the pale wood beneath the cover. 

"You were busy, it don't matter." Daryl mumbled.

"It does matter Daryl. I would have dropped whatever I was doing, if you asked me to." Rick sighed.

Once again, Daryl turned to look at him. He willed his ever-increasing heart beat to slow, sure that Rick would be able to hear it through his chest. He breathed deeply and opened his mouth a little, still staring into Rick's blue, blue eyes.

The light was beginning to dim. A sudden shuffling of leaves drew the two men from their conversation. Jumping up from the spot they were in, Daryl shoved the knife back into the sheath and held his crossbow up. Rick pulled his gun from his belt and aimed also. Daryl looked at Rick's weapon and raised his eyebrows. He didn't know where he had got it from but he was sure Rick didn't have the proper permission to be carrying it. He gave a short, dry cough and shook his head. Rick narrowed his eyes and cocked his chin up a little.

"I'm guessin' you ain't supposed to have that." He whispered, bobbing his head towards the handgun. "If they hear shots out here, they will send Aaron or someone out to investigate, then that'll be taken from ya."

Rick blinked slowly but lowered his hand, clicking the safety back on. He pursed his lips and gave a curt nod as he placed it back inside his waistband, pulling his shirt back over it. Daryl turned away, heat rising in his cheeks as he caught a glimpse of smooth abdomen before the fabric came back down again.

The sound of groaning and shuffling was getting nearer. It was a cacophony of crunches and squelches as the branches of near by trees began to part and a hoard of walkers came stumbling through. Daryl's heartbeat quickened further. There were too many to count.

"C'mon," he muttered to Rick, lowering his crossbow. "There's too many of them."

Daryl ran to a large tree a few feet away from them. It stood hollow, the split just wide enough to fit a man though if he turned sideways. Holding his weapon down by his side, he slipped inside the tree, watching as Rick did the same. Squashed inside the hole, their chests pressed hard against one another. Both men panted as the dead sounds became louder, echoing in the stagnant air around them. 

Daryl pursed his lips and closed his eyes. Dangling cobwebs tickled his nose and his bare arms. He breathed deeply. He told himself silently to be calm but was finding it evermore difficult when, with every breath he took, his chest brushed against Ricks. He shivered and opened his eyes to see Rick was staring at him. His breath hitched, his finger's tightened around his crossbow, the nuts and bolts that held it together digging into his skin. He didn't care. Daryl needed something to focus on, anything that wasn't the fresh musk of sweat on Ricks skin, or the way his breath ghosted over his face. Turning away suddenly, he watched as the brain dead trundled passed. 

"It's alrigh'," Rick uttered in his ear. "They'll be gone soon."

His hot breath tickled the shell of Daryl's ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He bit his bottom lip. Rick was so close. They both watched silently, unnoticed as the dead moved passed. Rick was the first to turn back, his Adam's apple bobbing in his his throat. His gaze raked over Daryl's handsome face. Daryl turned his eyes back to Rick, he breathed deeply with parted lips, knowing his cheeks were turning pink. The inches between their faces was gradually shrinking. 

Butterflies flitted in Daryl's stomach when he felt a light pressure on his hand. Warm, tender fingers, like velvet brushed over his skin. Goose pimples burst all over him. The touch was so fleeting that had it been anyone else, he would have just assumed it was an accident, nothing of note. But, the way Rick's hooded eyes were boring into him at that moment told him different. Could he dare to hope? Was it possible that the man that he had grown to care about, to look up to, to _love_ actually felt the same way?

Daryl sucked in a sharp gasp of air and lowered his eyes, craning his neck away. 

He felt the long hair over his ears dance about as Rick leaned in close.

"What are you afraid of, Daryl?"

He felt a warm hand cup his cheek. He allowed himself to be guided back round. His eyes closed as soft lips pressed against his.


End file.
